


no one there without you there

by thingsyoumissed (orphan_account)



Category: The Cab
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-01
Updated: 2008-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-30 04:07:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/327549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/thingsyoumissed





	no one there without you there

Every time Cash closes his eyes, he feels it again. Waking up to a sickening jolt and screaming, blinding pain in his leg. The screech of metal on asphalt, and then the millions of flashing lights. It should be dark with his eyes closed, but he still sees the yellows and whites, the reds and blues. 

He knows Marshall sees it too, because when he presses his face to Marshall's neck, there's a sharp intake of breath, a shudder, and then a tiny moan. "Sorry," Cash whispers, tracing light fingers over Marshall's arm. Someone on the other bed is snoring. He's guessing Ian. 

They are all nothing more than a trainwreck of bandages and casts, crutches leaned up against the wall. One pair is Cash's. He'll have to play sitting down, provided they can get everything together that they need. He can't stop making lists in his head, from the mundane everyday things they're now all missing (socks, toothbrushes, deodorant) to the expensive everyday things that were completely ruined (guitar amps, guitar pedals, bass amp, keyboard amp, entirely new van) that their label has thankfully agreed to replace. 

"Stop thinkin'," Marshall mumbles, except it comes out just kind of a mush of sounds since his mouth is so swollen. But Cash gets what he's saying. He touches Marshall's neck, softly, feels him shiver. He would touch Marshall's face, but he knows it would hurt. 

"'m sorry," he whispers, not quite sure what he's sorry for. 

Marshall makes a weird noise and turns over, slides closer in Cash's arms. Cash nuzzles carefully against him, pressing his mouth to Marshall's throat. Not sexual, since he doesn't think he could do any of that even if he wanted to, he's so tired and sore, but just trying to be comforting. There's soft sounds from the mattress on the floor, he can hear Johnson whispering to Darren. 

He tries not to think about how it could have been. Instead, he thinks about how lucky it is that they're all here, piled sleepily onto beds and hazy with painkillers, hands and bodies moving slowly. "I can't fall asleep," he whispers, barely able to make out Marshall's face, inches from his own, in the almost-darkness. There's only the single strip of sunlight that the curtains don't block out, falling across their legs. 

"I know." Marshall wiggles a hand up between them and touches Cash's forehead gently, strokes over the bruise on his temple. Cash isn't used to being so still like this, he'd rather be moving. He won't be able to go back and forth across the stage with his ankle all fucked up and that knowledge is making him feel even more restless. Marshall must feel it, because he rubs Cash's cheek, mumbles something that sounds like "at least close your eyes", so Cash does, and lets his fingers relax against Marshall's chest. The lights still flash behind his eyelids. Only time will dim them. And maybe Marshall's hands, whispering over Cash's skin, saying the things his bruised mouth can't. 

It's almost enough, for now. Cash concentrates on each inhale and exhale, trying to match Marshall's lengthening ones. Breath and hands slow, until everything slips away and they both drift off to sleep.


End file.
